


A Hole In The World

by Ecarden



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, WandaVision (TV)
Genre: Am I crazy?, Angst and Tragedy, Consequences, Episode 4 spoilers, Fridge Horror, Gen, Psychological Horror, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 01:20:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29463423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ecarden/pseuds/Ecarden
Summary: The Hex is a hole in the world. Anyone within when it was erected is forgotten by all who cared for them. It has carved a hole in their minds. One man tries to deal when the evidence of his eyes and hands cannot be made to match up with his memories. He fails.
Kudos: 5





	A Hole In The World

There are pictures on my wall I cannot see.

I do not know how long that has been true. Why would I? My home is full of pictures, for all I live alone. I did not notice that I could not see these pictures until I was aware of my…problem.

It was the little things at first. Tampons in the master bathroom. A surprise, to be sure, but not inexplicable. You visit often and the master bathroom is nicer than the guest bathroom. No true surprise you might leave things behind. I’ve always told you to treat my house as yours, sister. That was likewise my excuse for the clothes, though it wore thinner. The guest bedroom has a fine closet, no need to use mine.

That prompted a little looking, which made it obvious the clothes weren’t yours. I may not be an expert in clothing sizing, but whoever they were for had to be almost a foot taller than you. The difference was quite obvious. Still, it wouldn’t be the first time you used my house as storage for some charitable thing or another.

I couldn’t quite bring myself to ask, to be honest. Especially not after I almost burst into tears after smelling perfume I found in the vanity.

I just packed it all up in the garage and added the random other female-coded items I stumbled across. But after that, I realized there were other things, things that were clearly mine, that I didn’t remember getting. Pictures on the wall, dishes, rugs, even the chair I sit in as I type this. I have no idea where it all came from.

I was concerned about my memory, but a quick visit to the doctor assured me everything was fine. As I left, I do remember her looking surprised at me, as if I’d done something rude, but our conversation had been perfectly professional, so I brushed it off. I’ve lived in the house for ten years, its hardly surprising I couldn’t remember where some furnishings came from. They were probably gifts from our parents, you know what pack-rats they can be. Especially after our grandmothers were snapped away.

I told myself that it was just a couple of senior moments. But I didn’t dare ask our parents. They’re dealing with them being blipped back. They didn’t need any other trouble. 

Then I got my Amazon shipment. The one I set up that comes every three months. Subscribe and save. Don’t worry about forgetting what you need. That’s a laugh.

It was the same every three months, some spices and basic necessities for cooking. Some toiletries. Some cleaning supplies.

No tampons.

I love you, little sister, but I don’t stock my house with tampons for your use.

And yet, there were tampons in the box.

I hadn’t included them in the order, so I started going back through my orders. There they were. Delivered every quarter for the last two years. Along with other things I didn’t remember buying. Clothes, decorations, books that sat on my shelf unread and unrecognized. I was beginning to panic. Was I some sort of sleepwalking crossdresser? Was that even a thing? Well, with a world of…however many billions of people there are in it at the moment, everythings a thing somewhere. Which didn’t calm me. I actually tried on some of the clothes. They didn’t fit me. I was almost disappointed.

I started going back through my emails, trying to figure out if I was doing these orders at night, or what, and noticed something was wrong with my Gmail. There should have been fifty messages to a page. There weren’t. Not once I got back more than a week or so. Messages were missing.

That didn’t make any sense at all. Even if someone hacked into my Gmail (and why would anyone?) and deleted messages, there would still be 50 messages on a screen.

That’s when I began to inventory everything and noticed, I couldn’t look at part of my wall. My eyes just skittered off it.

After a moderate panic attack, I tried something stupid. I looked away and reached out to the place I couldn’t look. I expected…I don’t know what.

But instead of a monster, or a hole in reality, or whatever, I felt the glass covers of pictures. Feeling around, they were framed the same as the others. Three pictures. I took them down and I could look at my wall again. But not at the pictures in my hand.

I put them away.

I pretended none of this was happening.

I still might be pretending if I hadn’t noticed something two weeks ago.

I was wearing a wedding ring.

As you know, I’m not married. Haven’t even been seeing anyone in almost fifteen years. Which didn’t make any sense, I was very social my first two years of college, then…what happened? I just stopped dating anyone? I wasn’t asexual and I’ve always been good with people. That hadn’t changed. So what had?

I panicked.

I took the ring off and threw it away from me.

It vanished the moment it left my hand.

I called in sick to work and didn’t leave my bed.

Finally, I had to do something. I had to.

So, I hired a cleaning company. Told the man they sent out that I’d lost a ring and please bring it to me if he found it, then sat in my kitchen and drank most of a bottle of wine. He found it before I’d even gotten a glass down. Just lying in the corner of the master bedroom.

Or so he said. I couldn’t see anything in the man’s hand. But when he dropped it in the little dish like I asked, I heard the right noise. And when I felt inside it, I could feel it alright. I put it back on. I still can’t see it. Sometimes I can’t even feel it.

But I _know_ it’s there.

I think.

That’s the problem with all of this. I cannot tell if the problem is in the world, or in my mind.

I asked the cleaner to describe the pictures as he cleaned the cabinet they were in. He thought I was crazy, but I paid him extra. He told me.

A woman hugging me at my graduation.

Me hugging a woman at her graduation.

Me and the woman kissing at our wedding.

I asked, it was the same woman in all three pictures.

I started crying then.

He left.

Can’t say I blame him, either. I finished the bottle of wine.

The edges of the thing were starting to take shape.

Requesting your own marriage license is easy enough, though it’s harder when you don’t know your wife’s name.

They gave it to me though. I had the paper, but couldn’t look at it.

The cleaners came back the next week. It didn’t take two people, but they weren’t going to leave anyone alone with the crazy person. I had cash ready again. I asked them to read me the marriage license.

I think they thought I was mocking them. But they took the money and did it. I could see their lips moving, but I couldn’t hear her name. I kept making them repeat it, until I finally gave up. They took the money and left. They wouldn’t be coming back, they said. I was too weird. Too crazy.

I hope they are right.

I see three options. First, I am crazy. Some sort of psychotic break when my wife left? Some sort of delusion that she existed in the first place? Who knows?

Second, someone is engaged in a massive conspiracy to make me it appear that I once had a wife. But what would even be the point of that? I’m no one special. Maybe just an experiment of some sort?

Third, I once had a wife and she has been erased from existence. Body, mind, memory, even her name, taken. Her love for me, taken. My love for her, taken. I hope we loved each other. Even if we didn’t…even if we were a moment from divorce, this is _wrong_. It is a crime almost beyond imagining and impossible to punish. It cannot be allowed by any society.

If the third is true…I should go to SHIELD, or SWORD, or some other agency. I have money. I have friends. I could find someone who specializes in…whatever this is.

But that is exactly who could be behind scenario two.

I sat in my kitchen and spun the wedding ring I cannot see and considered my options for a very long time.

I tried _so hard_ to remember.

I called mom and asked her to send me the photo album from my graduation.

She couldn’t find it.

I remember mom taking pictures at every family event for my entire life. The only reason she didn’t have pictures of our birth was because she was a bit busy at the time. Those _fucking_ albums are so organized you can find every single picture. The idea that she lost an entire album is…insane. That should be proof that it’s not just me. But…

God of our father, I wish I believed. I wish I dared ask him to pray for me and for a woman I can not recall.

I have decided to believe that I am crazy. In either scenario one or three, there must be a hole in my mind. Scenario three also has a hole in the world. ~~Applying Occam’s Razor, I can~~ There is a hole in my mind. I want it to be natural, not something that was done to me.

I don’t want this woman I think I love to have been erased.

You told me once that there is no problem so big it can’t be tackled if we just get to work on it.

I think you once told me that.

Maybe not.

I cannot trust my own mind any longer.

If you did tell me that, you were wrong.

This is too big for me.

Or so I believe. Maybe I’m just a coward. I’m sorry, woman whose name I can’t hear, whose face I can’t see and whose perfume makes me cry. I think you married a coward.

I’m taking leave from work.

I’m checking myself into the hospital.

I hope the doctors can help me. If they can’t…I like to think I would fight for someone I love, but I can’t fight this. There is a hole in my mind and there’s nothing I can do for her, or for myself.

Please don’t come visit me.

I am not sure if I have lost someone I love. But I am sure that this has shown me that I am not the man I hoped I was. I do not want you to see the man I have proven myself to be and am terrified of being not-seen.

I hope you are my sister. But I don’t want to see anyone I think I love right now. And I couldn’t bear not-seeing you.

I’ve put the pictures back on my wall.

If you want to know…if you want to see if there’s a hole in your mind too, you can try to see them. You were always braver than I. I beg you not to look. But she might beg you to look. I don’t know.

Love?

Your brother?


End file.
